January 31st, 2012

Wake up at 6 AM.
A headache.  5 hours of crappy sleep.  I have this problem where I know I have to wake up early, and so it's harder for me to fall asleep.

I copy out my cheat sheet for my first midterm of 2012.  I read through the book.  I search for the tiny details that we didn't talk about that they will be evil enough to bring up.  I wonder if they enjoy it.  I assume that my professor does.  I remember, "Seriously, don't email me, email the head TA."

Cereal is a real meal if you add vitamins. And cue the spilling of 2/3 a can of enchilada sauce onto the wood floor.  Somehow the 10 second rule doesn't apply?  Something else go wrong, please?  I just need a little adversity today.

Decide I'm late.  Drive to school.  I pay for parking and head to my P.O. Box.  Good news hopefully?  Nope, tax forms and that fix-it ticket was not properly documented.  Another 1.5 months to fix the fix-it.

Developing chemicals.  My hands smell slightly of science and eggs.  Holy cow, I am bad at this and these pictures are ugly.  And boring.  Why would I take so many photos of a matchbox?  The ones with flame are kitschy and the ones without flames are good for putting you to sleep.  Sounds like an A+ to me.

Lunch break.  It's almost the moment of truth, but let's not think about that just yet.

Cold enchiladas.  Lunch of cham - just kidding.  Lunch of students.  But I make food like Mexicans.  I get another Mexican point because of how dang delicious these leftovers are.

Test time.  Yuck.  Oh wait, cute guy is sitting next to me.  You are seriously huge.  6' 5" and 245 if I had to guess.  And you look like a big stupid jerk.  But somehow you are suuuuper cute.

Sarcastic joke about how you live for test-taking?  Asking me how ready I feel for the test?  I think I'm in love.  You actually listened to my answer?  Well, maybe if we go out, one good thing will come out of this test.  Oh wait, we didn't even exchange names.  Except I learned that your name is Tyler.  I am le creepy.  You have got to be on the football team.  And you're in my hardest class, so you must be smart.

Oh good, everyone else thought this test was torture.  There's no way I could have been properly prepared for that.  I never want to take another test.

Oh wait, there's two more "midterms".

Two more prints, and you're done with photo for the day. This is definitely a "fake it til you make it" class.  Oh wait, am I done?  I'm totally donezo.  Printing is better than taking photos.  because you can make a boring photo look good without actually having artistic talent.

This yogurt has been in my backpack all day.  It's a little too warm, but it is delicious.  Is it gross to drink the yogurt juice?  Too late.  It's all gone.  Oh my french vanilla.

The hard part of my day is over, which is saying something because I haven't gone to kickboxing yet.  Change and go!  I am angrier than usual.  Hard kicks.  Punching with my abs.  I think I'm mad at today.  Yes, that's what it is.  I still have some fight left in me, Tuesday.  You can't take it from me.

Dinner!!!!  I love food.  Food is the answer to a day like today.  That's emotionally dependent eating.  Oh wait, I am emotional eating.  But a little OJ can't hurt.

And one last thing.  Photography.  Everyone's photos are so much better than mine.  But somehow the prof makes me feel good about my photos.  He's good.  That workout was tough.  I can still feel it when I take really deep breaths, or am I just nervous?  Because no one has chosen my photos to talk about, and what if no one does.  Burning the corners was good?  I just felt like the edges were boring.  Thanks dudes!  Your photo was cool too.

Now I am done.  Wait, what?  Euphoria?  Yes, please.  Smile the whole drive home.  I love those endorphins.  And the roommate baked fresh bread.  And the jam is delicious?  Yummers.  No seriously, this is the best smell there is.  EVER.

Laze about for half an hour.  Reflect.  All's well that ends well?

Yes please:

My face reflects that.

Le Fashions

Ok, so you, by this point, are like, "Wow, stop talking about your photography class because no one cares."  But this is me ignoring you because I care and this is my blog and don't read it if you don't want to.  (I don't cater to my audience very well, in case you couldn't tell.)

So here's the dealio, I am not a hipster.  And this is not one of those things where someone who is a hipster pretends to not be a hipster.  I am actually not a hipster.  I enjoy listening to top 40.  I read stupid celebrity gossip magazines when I'm in the grocery store because I think they're interesting and mind-numbing.  Although I sometimes shop at thrift stores, for the most part it's Forever 21 and Target for me.  And I own two scarves which I never wear.  Therefore I could never be a hipster.

Now that we've cleared that out, I think photography is super rad.  And so do a lot of hipsters.  In fact, my class, which is made of only probably 13 people, has about 9 hipsters in it (including the professor, who is actually only a grad student).  So every day when I go to the class I feel this tremendous pressure to wear cute clothes, because everyone else is wearing cute clothes that are like artistic and cool and edgy and not at all like the usual jeans + t-shirt from the company you interned at over the summer + Stanford hoodie which = the average Stanford student's wardrobe.

But not only do my clothes have to be cute, they have to send a message.  And the message that I usually try to convey through my clothes when dressing for this photo class is "the reason you don't see value in my photos is because my aesthetic is oh-so-clearly over your head as evidenced by my edgy and different taste in clothes that you think are cool but a little but ugly."  I mean, if a  pictures worth a thousand words, can an outfit be worth (...I'm counting...) 38?  I'm hoping yes.

So yes, I am posting pictures of  my outfits for the last few classes.  Which you will probably (hopefully) think are a little but ugly.  But also cool.  and edgy.  and over-your-head.  Did I really say that?  How pretentious is that?

In any case:

Bright blue pants, turquoise top, fat belly.  I was in a rush that morning.  

Oh and btw's, I made my first print, which you are welcome to think of as complete crap.  While the subject of the photo may suck, I am fairly proud of the printing.  Here is a picture of that picture:

Pictures of pictures look dumb.

Alert.

I already told you about my photography class and how I need to take one billion thousand photos before this quarter runs up, but I don't think I clearly listed all the implications of this.

Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls,  I have an announcement to make.  I am a creeper.  I creep on people and take their pictures when they aren't paying attention.  But wait!  There's more! I live in a neighborhood full of little kids.  It's part of what I love about it.  On my walk to school there is an elementary school and a pre-school.  Little kids abounding!  And little kids make the best pictures (evidence:

)

THe other day a cute little girl rode by on her bike and I just took the picture.  And then as I told a friend later, "It was totally ok because her mom didn't even see me do it."  Which just sounds like I am the creepiest person in the world.  

Maybe I am, but hey, little kids are rad.  And there are a lot worse people who could be taking pictures of random little kids.  

Naked Gymnasts (of the male variety)

I can tell I already have your attention.  Admit it, I'm right.

So here's the thing.  Nakedness makes me pretty uncomfortable.  Not my own body.  I'm fine with that.  I know what it looks like and I'm not particularly embarrassed by it.  It is what it is.  But I do noooot particularly feel comfortable looking at other peoples bodies. That's their business, and when someone is a complete stranger, I would rather not see that much of them.  

But I rented this locker, right?  So that I wold better be able to keep my resolution that was about moving.  So that I could have a place to put gym clothes and to shower so that I could go throughout the rest of my day without either smelling bad or going all the way home just to come back.  

Except that the building that my locker is in is called the Ford Center.  Which is used by exactly three sports groups.  1.  the crew teams - both male and female.  2. the volleyball players (I haven't seen any of the volleyball boys there) and 3.  the gymnasts.  

And all of these groups wear not very many clothes.  The volleyball players are actually the most dressed.  They wear those little spandex shorts, but they wear full on shirts!  The crew teams (who if you are not an east coaster, are the groups of people who row boats together in races) wear those little spandex shorts and either nothing or sports bras, depending on gender.  

And the male gymnasts!  They are the worst!  They wear those leotards kinda like wrestlers do - and they are suuuuuuper tight.  Except it doesn't stop there.  They roll them down to below their hip bones so that they aren't wearing shirts.  And then, they stand in groups all along my walk through the center and into the girls' locker room.  

But here's the thing, what are you supposed to do in this situation?  Obviously, you can't just stare at the practically naked bodies (really - they are leaving about half a square foot of their bodies to the imagination).  But also I feel like it is equally rude and weird to be blatantly looking away - like I'm saying I DON'T WANT TO LOOK AT THAT (even though I don't want to look at that).  So everyday as I walk into the building, I pick a spot on the back wall  in the direction of the lockers and I only stare at that spot.  

It's probably just as awkward as staring at their bodies, or at my feet, but this way, I don't run into any of the machines or anyone.


Anyhooozzle:

A photo of yours truly, because I used to do that more often and people are saying that I'm starting to get soft.  Ok, no one said it, but I like this picture of me and my super messy place.  Such is college, right?

7,000

Pageviews that is.  Isn't that a great number.  It has come to my attention that my sisters are simply pressing the refresh button sometimes up to 20 times in a row, but hey, i'll take what I can get.

iDudes (that was a typo, but I kind of like it), you are now entitled to one more clue as to what I will be giving away once this little old blog hits 10,000 pageviews.

You might be surprised by the randomness of the object which I'll be giving away, but you'll want it all the same.  


OK, I know that hint was pretty much super lame and really vague, but that's because the hint for 8,000 is pretty much gold.  It's like a bottle of orange juice - juicy and high in demand.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Did I tell you about my new term that just started?  I hope the answer is no.  

Wellllllll, I am taking three econ classes.  Big fat ones.  Actually, one of them is huge and fat and laborious, and the other two are regular size. 

And I am taking kickboxing.  And let me just tell you, I take that class very seriously.  You  can either do the class like a pansy and punch like you're swatting flies in front of you, OR you can pretend there is an angry man who wants to hurt you in front of you and  punch like your life depends on it.
Lastly, I am taking a photography class. Because when I realized that I don't actually need that many more units in order to finish my degree and that I am practically being paid to go to Stanford with all the financial aid they give me, I decided to streeeeeetch this sucker out.  Which means photography.  Which is hard dudes!
How am I supposed to know what will make a good picture?  But apparently, they don't all need to be good pictures, because we are supposed to take 4 rolls of film a week!!!  That's 140 pictures a week.  That's 20 pictures a day!!! That's just crazy talk to me.
But it's super cool!  I'm learning how to develop photos and all that technical stuff that leads me to use the phrase "lost art" in my head over and over again.  As soon as I take something that I don't of as complete crap, I'll be sure to share with you.  In the mean time:

An oldie, but a goodie.  

Again, sorry for the lame-ness of my hint, and more generally, of this post, but I feel busy all the time! Ahhh! Well, I bid you adieu,

G

What a Weekend!

Have you met my mom?  She's pretty cool.  This weekend she turned 50 (well, on her it looks more like 25).  And not only was her birthday this weekend, but it was on Friday the 13th.  How lucky is that?  So to celebrate, my family threw an awesome surprise party, that you should totally read about on her blog.  (I also just learned that my Mom has a blog.  That she rarely updates, but it exists!)

Anyways, to celebrate just a little bit more, let me tell you a couple of things about my mom:

• Her favorite color is red, as evidenced by half of her wardrobe, and a good portion of the house she lives in
• She loooooves chocolate milk.  For most of my childhood, I remember all of us kids around the table at breakfast eating cereal, while my mom sat and drank chocolate milk with some vitamins
• She likes listening to rock versions of the song Milkshake.  Like this, for example.  Does it get cooler than that?
• My mom can do a backflip.  Just kidding.  But she does have that magical mom ability where she knows where 85% of items  in the house are at any moment.  "Mom have you seen my flip flops?"  "Yes, they're under the kitchen table."  How did she even see that?
• She has run two half-marathons.  That's a total of one marathon!  But, she did them year apart, and I think she's planning on doing a third this June.  Girl can run!

That's all I'll divulge.  Happy 50th Mom!

The way this relates to my weekend is that I drove home on Friday in order to be there to see her as she walked through the door into a room full of people that she was not expecting to see.  Which turned into a lovely four-day weekend for me (well, I guess Dr. King also had a thing or two to do with it).  

SO what else did I do this weekend?  Well, Saturday I did largely nothing.  I'm actually trying to remember if I even left the house.  I did.  My mom took me to Hobby Lobby (which is probably her favorite store).  And I watched Laker game after Patriots/Broncos game after 49ers/Saints game (my man Harbaugh pulled out the W!).  

And Sunday, I went to church and probably watched more sports. 

And on MONDAY, I had a party.  Literally a party.  My familia got box seats to a Clipper game.  I have never been to an NBA game before, and my dad felt a little bad about that, so it was really cool that I got to go.  

But oh my gosh the Clippers!  Obviously I'm still a Laker girl (always will be), so I was still a little sad that on Saturday the Lakers lost to the Clippers, but the Clippers are suuper fun to watch.  You've got Blake, who's always dunking and being cute in those commercials, and Chris Paul who I have a major crush on.  Because, I mean, look at this:

I can't get over how cute he is in this picture.  Sure he's married and has a kid, but chances of me actually ever meeting CP3 are preeeeeeeetty small.  So there you have it. 

Oh and afterwards!  We went to this great little restaurant in East LA called El Tepeyac which has giant portions of deliciousness.  It was weird eating the leftovers yesterday for lunch knowing they had been made in LA by real Mexicans (and probabl using real animal fat).  But it was delicious all the same.  

And then I drove home.  Which was actually not that bad.  When there's not traffic, and I am not throwing up, I don't even end up crying.  

Also, another Clipper photo:

Oh, and apparently my Mom took a video of me dancing (I reeeeeeeeeaaaaaally wanted to get on the jumbo-tron but no one around me was excited), which you can see here if we are fb friends.  I just learned that I'm that girl who always dances, although I guess I should have known.  

Home for the Holidays

So what did I do in the 3 weeks I was home and apparently too busy to blog, you ask?

Well, largely nothing.  Seriously, I watched a lot of tv, played a surprising amount of video games, and was happy with the day if I ended up leaving home.  (helpful hint if you are me (which is another way of saying note to self): if you don't leave the house in a day, you will end up feeling bad about yourself).

For realzors though, not a lot going on.  Which is how any good vacation should be right?  Then again, normal vacations do not last three weeks.

So without further ado, pictures of some of the schtuffs I saw at home:

I call this sequence, "So did they give you a name along with all those rippling pectorals?"  which is a Hercules quote and a reference to the fact that while shirtless you can be....

An Accountant,

A creeper,

A chef,

A good uncle, 

and a model, but I don't know if I will share that picture (it's a bit embarrassing)

This sequence is called, "Only at Home"

I wake up next to a penguin wearing what appears to be actually functioning headphones.

We actually go through this amount of flour.

Fridge Tetris

And these guys don't have a group:

And there, you have it, folks.  

Auld Lang Syne

I, like Harry Burns, actually have no idea what the lyrics to Auld Lang Syne mean, but I know it is a song about new years.  And with that, let me share one of my top five meg ryan moments:

First things first, saying goodbye to 2011.
What a year!  In 2011, I had a lot of ups and downs. Realistically, I probably had more downs than ups, and I learned a lot a lot a lot about myself.  But highlights included:

• learning the effects and importance of a quick dance party
• travelling to the east coast in a Spring Break extravaganza
• making a good friend or two
• spending a lot of time trying to get myself to do things (that is both accurate and vague, and I apologize that it sounds so weird)
• getting my hair cut exactly once, although I trimmed it myself a bunch, and I am now comfortable doing that

But.....


Oh, I am feeling awfully romantic about 2012, dudes.  Awfully romantic indeed.  Like 1940s movie star romantic about it.
Every year that I am alive seems to bring a lot of new craziness, but at the same time, I feel like I know myself better as I get older and I feel more comfortable with myself.

Ok so RESOLUTIONS.  The million dollar question of the last week.  Here we go:

• Do things.  Like don't just half-do them.  If I'm eating a cookie, I want to be thinking about the way that cookie tastes.  If I'm in a class, I want to be paying attention to the ideas the teacher is presenting.  If I'm saying a prayer, I want to be talking to God.  Actually do things.  
• Move.  When I get depressed, I don't want to do anything besides sit somewhere warm and watch tv.  Which is bad for my waistline, my grades, and my social life.  And one of the things that helps the most? Moving around.  Dancing, walking, running, doing jumping jacks, etc.  

I guess I only have two resolutions, but that's because I really want to do them.  I want this year to be proactive and for me to savor it.  I want to be a go-getter again, because I think I used to be one.  

And yes, I realize it is now the fifth day of the new year.  And double yes, gratuitous photos:

Should old acquaintance be forgot.....